


syali - bhayo

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Ramayana fics [21]
Category: Ramayana - Valmiki
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Rama is glad of the three princesses he brings back from Mithila along with Sita, both because she is relieved not to have to leave behind her sisters, and because they bring his brothers happiness, if not the same joy he has found with Sita. He does not expect to appreciate them in his own right, but before long he dotes on them like the little sisters he never had.syali (Sanskrit): wife’s sisterbhayo (Sanskrit): brother’s wife





	syali - bhayo

Rama is glad of the three princesses he brings back from Mithila along with Sita, both because she is relieved not to have to leave behind her sisters, and because they bring his brothers happiness, if not the same joy he has found with Sita. He does not expect to appreciate them in his own right, but before long he dotes on them like the little sisters he never had. He and Urmila conspire together about how to quell Lakshman’s tempers and surprise Sita on her birthdays, bonded together in shared love for the same two people. Mandavi has an eye for art and an ear for poetry, and he often consults her advice when deciding which craftsmen and bards to patron. Shrutakirti he enjoys showering with compliments and favors and little presents, spoiling her the way he never could his brothers.

Separated as they are by propriety and his duties as Crown Prince, the frequency of their interactions waxes and wanes, never consistent enough for their relationships to be called close, but they always look up to him, and he always watches over them. Then exile strikes their world like lightning, separating them for a decade and a half, without even a chance to say goodbye in two of their cases.

He misses them more than he expects, while he is in the forest, for the innocence and the liveliness they infused into his world, however much they may have been on the periphery of his consciousness. They mourn him similarly -- or at least, Mandavi and Shrutakirti do, Urmila being lost to sleep. Mourn the stability he would have brought as king as much as they mourn the older brother behind the crown.

Rama returns to his kingdom, garlanded by the gods, triumphant not a strong enough word to describe him, and his joy encompasses to include his sisters-in-law. They are older than he remembers, all of them aged from taking care of his kingdom while he gone, and he finds he respects and appreciates them all the more for it, more than he ever did in his youth. They are so strong, these three incredible women, reflections of their elder sister and his wife. He intends that every happiness shall be theirs, in return for what they have done for him, and that his coming sons shall learn as much from their aunts as they do their uncles, and that --

 _Dhobis_ _,_ and whispers, and Sita leaving Ayodhya in the dead of night. She takes their children with her, and leaches all colors from Rama’s world with her departure. Those losses he expected, and he feels them keenly, but one unexpected casualty he realizes only when Urmila, Mandavi, and Shrutakirti gaze upon him with cold, shuttered eyes.

“Did I sleep fourteen years for this?” Urmila demands, and Rama cannot answer, cannot find the words to apologize for failing to protect her sister: not against the dangers of the jungle or Ravana’s lusts, but from the tongues of her own people.

“You forsook your kingdom when dharma demanded it of you; why should your wife be any different? What’s a wife compared to a kingdom, anyways?” Mandavi ruled Ayodhya as interim queen for fourteen years; out of them all, Rama might have thought she would understand his reasoning the best, but her voice is laded only with bitterness.

“You are a cruel man, and how Rajmata Kaikeyi ever despised you, I cannot imagine, when the two of you are so alike. Perhaps she recognized herself in you, and therefore --” Shrutakirti bursts out before Shatrughna hushes her. She is the youngest of them all and the least beholden to decorum, but he knows they all share her sentiments.

For his part, he is half-glad that they avoid him now as much as possible. They take after their eldest sister too much, for all that she shares no blood with them: if not in look, then in the way they walk and their mannerisms and the iron core running through all their spines. It is even more difficult when they bear their children, and they resemble Sita as he remembers her last.

But the other half of him grieves the easy affinity they shared, sporadic and incidental as it was, longs for the time when they trusted and respected him with all the mindlessness of younger sisters. An era when he could trust himself. Now they refuse to meet his eyes, and when they meet in the corridors, they bow irreverently before passing him, the frost of their silence and the breeze of their swishing skirts leaving Rama colder than he could have ever imagined.


End file.
